


Of Memories And Mirrors

by lorewritesstuff



Series: Stranger!Tim fics [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Introspection, Kinda?, No beta we die like archival assistants, Stranger kind of 'costumes', Stranger!Tim, The Unknowing (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28987623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorewritesstuff/pseuds/lorewritesstuff
Summary: "The costume was in a very good state and It-who-was-not-a-he can’t help but want to take a moment to look themself over in a mirror.Everything about it was perfect, the arms, the hair, the nose, the eyes- The eyes...The figure feels its smile slowly fade from their face as they keep looking at their eyes.Those eyes did not fit this face."A nice little Stranger!Tim fic with him finding a... familiar costume :)
Series: Stranger!Tim fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126355
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Of Memories And Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I blame whoever introduced me to any kind of Stranger!Tim au on ds for this.  
> 2) Sorry, not sorry.  
> 3) The it/they/he parts are that way on purpose and are such to represent the mindset 'Tim' is at the time.  
> 4) As the tags say, no beta so apologies if anything is... off. Might rewrite/fix it a bit later in the week but good enough to post now I think.  
> And lastly, enjoy :D

He-who-was-not-a-he quite liked its job. Well, as much as a being of plastic could like anything. It was a dancer in a very special Dance. The most important Dance in history. The Dance that would end all that is and make it all unknown until it was just right. Soon, they’d be ready to remake the world as it should be, and it would dance with the others until all was blissfully unknown. It can almost imagine the music, the atmosphere, their Danseuse Étoile directing them in a Dance that would be remembered forever if things like memories still existed after it. But first, they must all get their costumes, to look their best when the time comes. 

Oh, what a joy it would be, dancing with the others on that glorious day.

It had finally gotten its new costume for the Dance. Well, maybe _new_ is not the best word for it. In fact, it was quite an old costume that had been sitting around for a long while. However, it was a new costume for It-who-used-to-be-a-he and it would wear it with pride during the Dance.

The costume was in a very good state and It-who-was-not-a-he can’t help but want to take a moment to look themself over in a mirror. The costume fits almost as well as its original costume fit it before they became He-who-is-not-a-he and it can’t help but find joy in that knowledge.

Everything about the costume was perfect, the arms, the hair, the nose, the eyes- The eyes...

The figure feels its smile slowly fade from their face as they keep looking at their eyes. And they were their eyes, from back before they were who they are now. Those same eyes that used to fit so well looked terribly _wrong_ now.

Those eyes did not fit this face.

It knows this face, it had seen it before. Before… Before when? There shouldn’t be a when, it shouldn’t recognise this face because when could it have seen this face before? It knows it is not its face so why did he recognise it.

Why, why does it make him sad?

The figure notices their view was getting blurry and realises they’re crying. He didn’t know he could still cry. Why was he crying? He’s not supposed to be crying, and especially not over some old costume he had been given. So why did seeing brown eyes on this face make him so sad? Why did it make him feel breathless when he doesn’t need to breathe? Why did he feel like breaking when he wasn’t broken?

Why did seeing this face make him feel like a failure?

He suddenly felt like laughing. But not the happy, joyful laughter it would have been before he had put on the costume, no, this was the type of laughter you would expect to hear at a funeral. Broken, hysterical, ashamed.

He realises he knows the face in the mirror. It is not his face but he knew the person it used to belong to. He knew a person with bright blue eyes, a smile on their face, and a heart that just kept on giving. It was an adventurous person, fearless and brave, never stopping, always going. Going and going until the universe itself decided they could go no further and that they needed to be stopped. And stop they did, leaving him alone and grieving, wishing with all his heart to be able to see them, to see their face just one more time-

Well, it seems like he finally got his wish granted.

He realises he’s on the floor, laughing and crying while holding himself in a mockery of a hug. One last hug to his precious person. One last hug to-

He hears the rising notes of a calliope playing in the background. The whole place began to fill with sounds of movement and laughter. It was time for the Dance to start. He needed to go and take his place.

The figure rises from the floor and runs their hands over their face to wipe away the tears before putting on a big smile. There was no need for sadness here, the Dance was about to start! All of its dreams were about to come true. 

The world would soon become as it was always meant to be, unknowing and glorious in its uncertainty.

It-who-will-never-be-a-he-again walks towards the door and leaves the dressing room without taking another look at the mirror. And why would it? There was no time nor need to care about being a self now. No, it was time to dance and watch the world become unmade.


End file.
